sirens they come, sirens they go

Post title is from another Horrible Crowes song "Blood Loss".



I had a fantastic time in Melbourne. Since I've been back, however, the darkness has been trying hard to claim me again. I ended up having another week off work after I got back, simply because getting out of bed was too difficult, too painful. I can't decide if what I'm feeling is simple exhaustion, due to the anemia, or the return of depression my old friend/foe. All I know is it's fracking hard to accomplish anything, and days will pass without showering, speaking to anyone except Neil (and then it's just the basic exhange of words), or eating anything apart from caramel biscuits.



Didn't you all LOVE this card from PostSecret this week?

I think this is what's going on for Neil at the moment. He seems to have given up trying to inspire or encourage me to get my arse out of bed and to work. He said to me the other day "I'm scared of pushing you over the edge", and I felt so damn guilty... I'm constantly aware of the fact that he lost his dad and his brother to suicide and that he must worry so much about me. I just can't seem to get motivated enough to get moving.

I have a couple of hopeful moments ahead of me. I see a haematologist tomorrow about my anaemia and he will book me in for an iron tranfusion. This entails being hooked up to an IV for six hours in hospital while I'm pumped full of iron. A couple of people I know swear by these transfusions and I'm praying that I get booked in for one in the next few weeks. Having more physical energy must have a positive effect on my mental pain. The other thing is my parents and my brother are paying for me to do a course entitled "Ignite Your Life" - a three day course in self-development and transformation that the three of them have done in the past, and which they swear will have an amazing effect on my life and attitude. I'm slightly cynical, even though I've seen the difference in them and it's pretty profound. I really hope to gain benefit from the course, and maybe finally have clarity in my path in life. I have a fantastic relationship with Neil, and for that I am eternally grateful, but pretty much everything else in my life is dismal. "Ignite Your Life" runs from November 11 - 13.

I'm sorry I've been absent from this page for so long. It's been hard to know what to say, when all I've been feeling is BLAH. But despite my gloomiest of outlooks, there is still a persistent, hopeful chink of light at the end of this tunnel. And that's what keeps me going, slow and steady.

who will sing me to sleep

My gorgeous friend Pixie (she of the wicked blog Clouds and Illusions) introduced me recently to Kate Rusby, an amazing Yorkshire lass with a voice like an angel. The title of my second post of the day (unheard of!) is from her song "Who Will Sing me Lullabies". Almost as lovely a voice as Ms Pixie herself!

As lots of folk are, I'm preoccupied with death. I'm not sure if that's a result of, or a cause of, suicide attempts, but I tend to think it's linked. I also had a near death/out of body experience when I was 7 years old. I don't think it's healthy, to think about death and dying as much as I do... I realised the other day that my job is not helping me to change that focus. What I do each day is watch video of major roads in the state, and assess each road for hazards that may result in fatal car accidents. Basically I watch as a tree passes and decide "yes, that may kill someone if they crash into it". Then I record it on a spreadsheet. So my whole day is filled with thoughts and decisions about fatal car accidents. Death. I also have to make a record of roadside memorials. I guess they are all over the world? Where a family sets up a cross and shrine to mark where a family member (or members) have lost their lives in an accident? Cheerful work. NOT! No wonder I am morbid and preoccupied with death. No wonder I am afraid to get my drivers licence!

All the doctor talk about bleeding, ulcers, polyps and tumors doesn't help either. I realised today that I've never told my parents or Neil what song I want played at my funeral. Have I reiterated that I want to be an organ donor?? Have I told them I want to be cremated???

I thought I'd ask you guys what song you most want played at your funeral, if you've considered it. I think most of us have at some stage or another. My song is Moby's "We Are All Made of Stars".

falling from the heartbeat of this girl

I saw Doc A on Friday, for the first time in over a month - probably the longest stretch I've been "psych-free" since I started treatment in Feb 2009. The session was good, primarily because he validated all the issues I've been having since I went off the Solian (anti-psychotic) and basically advised me to keep doing what I was already doing on my own - namely go back on the Solian and try to maintain mindfulness with my eating and shopping binges. He seemed adamant that I've proven I need the Solian, even in the small dose I'm taking. I think that having a period off the medication, during a stress-free and trigger-free time in my life, was a good "test". I am okay with needing the Solian. It's primarily for schizophrenia, which I don't have, but is also proven to work for BPD and OCD in conjunction with an anti-depressant.

So I have been taking the Solian again for a week and feel markedly improved. My mood is better, I feel less "split" and distracted, I have managed to reduce my binges (both eating and shopping), and overall I am less anxious. Had a great weekend with Neil, finally met his mother which was a lot less scary than I'd imagined LOL, and some more of his friends. Also spent time at my place with Michelle, who gets on famously with Neil. It is such a relief that they are compatible, and there are no issues, as one of the other guys I dated this year, Lloyd, triggered massive (justified) anger from Michelle. He really was a jerk. Sometimes I have to pinch myself, metaphorically, to make sure I'm not dreaming the fact that I now get to hang out with someone as generous, loving, fun and kind as Neil. Did I tell y'all that we met on an internet site that is primarily for sex and hookups than for actual romance and dating?? SO WEIRD. I had grown tired of the metrosexual passive types I was meeting on the traditional dating sites, so put my profile up on a site more "out there" - and ended up meeting one of the few men on that site who actually was after more than just a one night stand. How funny. Neil told me afterwards that he didn't realise that site was known for "swingers" and the like! Jeez, I do love him.

Post title is from one of my fave songs at the moment, Angus & Julia Stone's "and the boys". They are an awesome brother/sister duo from Sydney. Here's the film clip for those who are interested...

why is the last mile the hardest mile?

Three weeks ago Dr A gave me a prescription for an atypical antipsychotic, and tonight I started taking amisulpride (aka Solian). I wasn't keen to start a new medication while Doc was lazing on a beach in Portugal, but really, the last week has been hellish and I'm hoping for some kind of miracle. It's a low dose, but it's possible that it will help to stablise my moods and help with the trichotillomania, binge eating, angry freakouts, etc. When he wrote the script Dr A said it could keep me up all night, or help me sleep, and I'm desperately hoping it'll be the latter. So damn tired, so sick of the nightmares I'm having.

I took a personal day off from work today, after waking up with that utterly helpless feeling, knowing I would not be able to summon the strength to face the world. I spent the morning writing a list of all the crap I have to worry about, which (weirdly enough) helped. I'm now attempting to prioritise these things, and will work through them one at a time. Sigh. My dog had to have $500 worth of x-rays a couple of weeks ago, after rupturing her cruciate ligament jumping down from her groomer's table for goodness sake! Whose dog DOES that? So unfortunately, my divorce is temporarily on hold. But I still plan on doing it as soon as I save up the money again. I have also contacted Mr Ex regarding a few loose ends, possessions, etc, and it felt quite decent to be assertive. I am still overwhelmed with resentment and anger about a lot of things regarding our marriage/his lies. And I suppose one day that will all have to be dealt with.

I logged on here today and found I had one less follower. Nick Drake just the last straw, huh? LOL. My friend Kate once mentioned how easy it is as a blogger to place stock on who has you on their blog lists, and who follows you, and she is (as usual) right. It sucks that someone abandoned me while I was down!! I'm kidding, but you know what I mean, right? I have another friend who warned me, and rightly so, about the indulging in melancholy music when I'm already feeling low. I'm terribly prone to that, so have avoided all tear-jerking emo type music today! Apart from the blog post title, which is courtesy of Morrissey.

One of the bright moments in the last week has been my kick arse friends, in the real world and the virtual. It helps so much to know other people know what the black dog looks like, and how persistently he hangs around hoping for some scraps of sadness. Another bright spot was seeing Whip It - a movie that may be responsible for my unattractive and clumsy entry to the sport of roller derby!! If only I could a) skate, b) think of a good derby name and c) wear fishnets without resembling an overstuffed bag of oranges. LOVED the movie and am determined to live the tagline - BE YOUR OWN HERO!

fate has been against me from the start

Not much to list these days, on the positive or the negative side of the tally. Work is completely off the chart lately. I was hired in May to co-ordinate the Foundation's biggest event of the year, which comes up next Monday and Tuesday. I've booked the venue (5 star hotel), accommodation for two speakers, managed to organise catering, invitations, name tags, checklists, and also a display of our literacy products for sale. I've even managed to sleep occasionally in between OCD flashes of inspiration/stress lol. Bottom line, I am looking forward to Wednesday when it will be all over and our visiting speaker (a Lord of the realm, gulp) will be winging his way back to the UK. Remember my last post when I lamented my lack of fashion-nouse, well let me tell you the concerns over what to wear to Dr A have paled in comparison to what to wear meeting Sir J. We also have Members of Parliament attending, high ranking public servants. Please, let Borderline Lil behave herself!

The good thing about being busy with something real, ie: work, is that it distracts me from the gigantic empty chasm that is my heart-felt life. Most of the time I cope well with being alone, spending time with friends is always a benefit and I am slowly exchanging my avoidant habits for social hobby-type things. I was talking to someone recently and realised that I have closed off my heart from even the idea of romantic/sexual relationships. Which is sad, cause once upon a time I was good at them and actually enjoyed them. Enjoyed the lead-up, the anticipation, the possibility and the consummation (ha ha). The person I was talking to is a true romantic, and it struck me that I used to be one too. These days I find it hard to remember how that felt, and why it changed. I just feel relieved that now I'm not dating I don't feel the need to study my body and catalogue its flaws, don't need to make sure my sheets are clean and my legs are stubble-free. No more second-guessing my conversation, studying the signs. For everything I miss or fondly remember about dating there are as many things that I'm relieved to leave behind.

Part of me hopes (damn hope that persistent little bitch) that I might find a place in my heart for love again. That my body and mind might be strong enough to enter the world of the relationship. I guess time will tell! In the meantime, I send out props to those of you who are still fighting the romantic fight, and putting your heart out there. In particular John, the Shane MacGowan-esque songwriter who supplied the title of today's post. You can listen to it here. If I was ten years younger and half a world from where I am, I might even develop a girly crush... Love your work, man x

"Kathy, I'm lost" I said, though I knew she was sleeping

It's strange the things that can bring on the melancholy. My stepdad bought a dvd today, of Simon & Garfunkel's Concert in Central Park (1981 I think) and has been playing it while I was in the kitchen cooking. For a lot of different reasons, the songs brought up memories, mostly sad. When I was about 10 years old I found an LP record in my parents' collection that had a handwritten name on it I recognised. It turned out to be (as I suspected at the time), one of the few things my mother kept that had belonged to my father - a Simon & Garfunkel record that I would secretly play when my mother and stepdad weren't around. Over the years I became more and more enamoured of them, and folk music in general, and I ended up buying the Concert in Central Park album in about 1987. Hearing the songs again reminded me of how in those days, at 17, I was still under the misapprehension that being depressed was something I would "grow out of". I believed that all the low moods and suicidal thoughts were part of my groovy & creative personality and I channelled them as much as I could into writing songs, stories, poetry.

What struck me the most today was that I could recognise melancholy approaching, and rather than eagerly laying down and becoming its mistress, I fought it and won. I used Mindfulness to view the feelings objectively, and could see clearly (maybe for the first time) the two paths on offer. I could either go with the sad memories, and add to them in the same way I was adding ingredients to my vegie soup, ending up with a confusing mess of mixed emotions and general blah. Or, I could feel and acknowledge the sadness/loss, briefly revisiting the memory of the past before letting it go.

Half an hour later, instead of being bedridden, binge eating, self-harming or bawling, I was finishing off making my soup and starting on brownie cheesecake (as my birthday treat for tomorrow). All the while still singing along with Simon & Garfunkel (that's one long concert lol).

I used to think that my over-emotional or extreme reactions to songs, films, books, etc were part of my personality. With DBT, I view it differently -- the reaction is the first, "normal" part of the equation, and the BPD encouraged me to take the reaction to the extreme and let it overwhelm my thoughts and (therefore) my emotions. With the new filter of my Wise Mind I'm learning/trying to enjoy the reaction to the song (for instance), but keep it in context and balance. It's still not second nature to me, but I know it gets easier to practice DBT/CBT skills.

One of my all-time favourite songs, and my favourite S&G tune, is "Kathy's Song". I used to cry when I heard it, especially the lines:
"I sit and watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you, go I"
Forgive me if I've misquoted, I'm writing them from memory! Anyway, today I heard those words in a completely different context and they didn't make me sad. I even half-jokingly substituted "DBT" for "you" in the final line. This morning could have ended up very differently, much bleaker, without my new therapy. A few people I know who have done DBT call themselves "DBT Geeks", or DBT Obsessives - experiencing it work really does make you a convert/true believer! I hope I don't come across as simplifying Borderline, or other mental illness, and I am definitely not saying Dialectical or Cognitive Behaviour Therapy is the only way to treat these things. They have just worked for me, after many years of NOTHING working. And I wanted to share it.

Eurovision Song Contest

One of the few things that can make me smile at the moment is remembering that the 2009 Eurovision Song Contest is on next week. It's been one of my passions since the mid 90s when I lived briefly in England, where it's very popular. Australia doesn't enter, for obvious reasons (though these days the countries involved are further afield than traditional Europe!) but the contest has always been screened here, with a bit of a cult following. It's one of those mad, fun, weird things that I don't fully understand, but I love it. You never know what to expect from Eurovision -- some of the artists and songs are truly brilliant, and yet more are truly tragic. The voting is by telephone, by the public, and there's always some "bloc" voting (with neighbouring countries voting for each other, etc). The usual commentator, BBC's Terry Wogan, has retired after umpteen years, which is sad because he managed to be reverent yet slightly sarcastic in his comments. Often we would be laughing so hard at his commentary that we would miss some of the songs!

This year's contest is held in Russia, as they won it in 2008 (a very cute boy named Dima won with his song "Believe"). There are so many countries now that they have two semi-finals, which are on the 12 and 14 of May, with the final on the 16th. Mr Ex is also a huge fan, as is my family, so we usually have a party with international foodstuffs, quizzes, games, and costumes. Big, big deal! Last year, it was the weekend Mr Ex and I made the decision to part ways, which naturally put a dampener on celebrations. I'm hoping this year will be more enjoyable...

I've decided to put here on my blog some of my favourite Eurovision acts from last year. Bosnia & Herzegovina's entry came 10th...it's so weird and catchy! Makes me smile...



Latvia was one of the favourites last year, they've won the contest before - this entry came 12th. I absolutely love it.



Earlier today I really felt bereft. So hard to get motivated, crazy and harmful thoughts going through my mixed up head. I feel a lot better now, thanks to my litle Eurovision hobby/obsession. I have CDs of previous contests, and the last ten years on video, and youtube has stacks of clips. I think I will spend more time in Eurovision world this week.

Why I Love Taylor Swift

This is such a cynical world sometimes, and it's unfashionable (in certain circles) to love anything that is popular and simple and beautiful. I have a few guilty pleasures like that...things I love that are kept secret, in case they damage my ultra-cool (*cough*) image. Chick lit novels, for instance, are something I love even though I studied English Literature at University and also have place on my shelves for Jane Austen, Margaret Atwood, Mark Twain, et al. I don't see the point in being a book snob, when reading is such a great pleasure and there are so many different styles of writing, why limit myself to those novels "critically" acclaimed or reviewed in literary magazines?? Honestly, I still have a collection of teen romance novels I accumulated in high school (and later) -- I don't read them all the time, but I like to know they're there in case I need escapism or to relive the past. I also have such a strong connection to the 80s, and to the teenage experience, and struggle every day to realise that I can never go back there. Sometimes I look at 19 year old girls on the street or on the bus and they're SO cocky and sure of themselves, and I want to say "Man, don't ever think you have it all worked out...life is sure to throw you a major curve ball one of these days and you better pray you have the moves to catch it and fling it back or the damn thing will knock you out".

I used to date a musician who refused to listen to anything that would be played on commercial radio, consequently he amassed a huge pile of alternative, independent artists that mostly sounded like garbage cans being collected at 4am (IMHO). While I spent a lot of time trying to impress him and pretended to agree that "pop = bad", secretly I hung on to all the music I truly loved, which had mostly been played on the radio at one stage or another. As much as my BPD-style of connection, in which I become the person I love, taking on their interests as my own, has dictated some of my cultural pursuits, there are some things that are true to me -- daggy and pathetic though they may be.

Which brings me to Taylor Swift and the title of this post. A lot of music journalists and internet pundits make fun of Taylor, questioning her validity, pondering her contribution to modern music, making fun of her for being publicly dumped by a Jonas Brother. None of that matters to me, because I love her songs, I love watching her interviews - she strikes me as a geunine girl, who is 18 and is trying to make sense of love and life...hey she reminds me of me hahahahaha!! I have been resisting buying her new CD "Fearless", due to "peer pressure" from the "cool kids". But most days I would be on youtube, playing her songs in secret and watching her vblogs.

So, here and now, I'm outing myself as a devoted Taylor Swift fan, and I'm going to share part of one of her songs "White Horse". If you want to comment, maybe share with us one of YOUR "dirty little secret" pleasures?? I know you've all got 'em.

I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairytale
I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet
lead her up the stairwell
this ain't Hollywood, this is a small town
I was a dreamer before you went and let me down
now it's too late for you and your white horse to come around

We Were Never Being Boring

"The Borderline patient's boredom is hungry and restless. There is a driven quality to it, or as one therapist said "These people are walking responses looking for a stimulus"...the Borderline patient's boredom can quickly turn into a subjective sense of emptiness that is painful and distressing" (Becoming A Constant Object - In Psychotherapy With The Borderline Patient)

Reading a review of the above book did nothing to reassure me that the stigma about BPD patients has lessened. My own shrink laughed when he said "Lots of doctors don't commit to therapy with Borderline Patients as it's just too challenging". Oh, it sucks to be them (except when it's time to give me the $250 bill per session). A sponsored link on the review lead me to The Teddy Bear Therapy Centre - a psychology centre in my own city where (contrary to my fervent hope) the shrinks are not dressed in bear suits, nor do they seem to offer teddy bears for stress-relieving beheadings or dismemberments.

And people wonder why I am losing my mind hahahahahaha!

Comfort Box

One of the tasks I'm working on this week, as part of my "Understanding Borderline Personality Disorder" workbook, is creating a Comfort Box. The process is very simple, and probably most folks have come across it before, but there's a little article on ehow.com about it here if you want to know more. Basically, I've been asked to create a boxful of stuff to cheer me up and to help with Distress Tolerance (Distracting) -- so that when I feel overwhelmed/ stressed / depressed I can use the items in the box to cheer myself up and distract me until the "difficult emotions" and "unhelpful thoughts" have eased up. You can see most of the items I have in there so far, including a wallmap of the USA with all my trips marked, a couple of books, photos of the cats and dog, a lavender scented soap and a Barbie fake camera which says "You look WONDERFUL" when you press the button! It's cheesy and always makes me smile! I'm still adding to it.

Putting together the box was heaps harder than I thought, and harder than the workbook suggested. They didn't warn me to watch out for trigger items, which of course came to hand faster than comforting items lol. For instance, trying to find a nice stuffed animal that didn't have sad memory attached -- the ones that weren't gifts from Mr Ex were given to me when I was in hospital. Photos were another suggestion, but it took me a while to find some that brought genuine happiness when I saw them, and I had to search through a lot of albums and relive a lot of not-so-happy times and relationships. The real killer was the music, though, as touched on in my last post...

I'm putting together a cheery peppy music CD to put in the comfort toolbox, and I think I've ended up with a great mix. Songs that aren't too angry or negative (sorry Alanis!) but are just kind of happy and upbeat. Mika features, as does Fergie and Madonna, and some offbeat Australian music like Ben Lee, Darren Hanlon and The Cat Empire. I talked to Dr A today about the music thing, and how I have been known to use it as an intentional trigger, to make myself cry and feel when I am too closed down to cope with anything. He says crying suits me and I should do it more often. I think he's aiming for some hot transference action hahahahaha.

I Was A Nightmare, You Were A Saint

I don't make a habit of reviewing films. For great discussions of Rachel Getting Married you should visit Wandering Coyote's blog, Bon Dobbs (isn't that a cool name??) or Mystery Man On Film. These guys do a better job of describing the film than I could. I only reference the film here in relation to me and my experience of it! What's new haha? I saw the film today, and loved it... related to it, admired it, hated it because of the reflected pain from my own life/family history. During the film I kept remembering Marsha Linehan's description of BPD as having third degree burns on the emotional skin, so that every tiny experience of pain is amplified to agonising. Personally, I most often say that it's like every bone in my body is broken, as the pain from a burn is more "searing" or sharp, and my emotional pain is not usually so acute. More dull, throbbing, aching, permanently "there" on the periphery of my awareness.

Anyway, I am a huge fan of Anne Hathaway, being a dedicated Princess Diaries fan. I thought she did a remarkable job playing the character Kym, who may or may not be Bipolar or Borderline but has certainly struggled with an addiction to narcotics and an eating disorder. Kym demonstrates a plethora of character traits and behaviours a lot of us can relate to- rapid mood cycling, impulsivity, confusion of self, paranoia, and Anne Hathaway is interesting and convincing in the role. I would like to say the movie or her performance made me cry, but in fact I was just crying as accompaniment, really didn't notice a stopping or starting of the tears, they were just part of the whole experience. I really couldn't NOT cry... I was sorrowful... I was struck all over again by how damnably hard it can be to form relationships with ANYONE, let alone people we are thrown together with by accident of genetics/birth. At one stage, there was a parade of seemingly healthy, outgoing, sociable and articulate people wishing the bride and groom well -- an inexplicably mulitnational, musically gifted group of friends and family. People quoted, emoted, sang, played saxaphone. And you just know there's going to be Kym's turn coming around, and she will be the odd one out. I don't know if I believe in the well-rounded and blessed first group, they just don't ring true for me. Emotional truth and raw, bleak honesty, however, seem to be what fits. The title of this post is one of Kym's great one-liners. Without spoiling the plot for anyone who wants to see Rachel Getting Married, I completely dissolved into sympatico giggles when Kym starts to say "That's not fair!" People in the audience behind me were tsk tsking at the character, criticising her I suppose for her self-centredness. But Kym, honey, I hear ya. Sometimes, it ain't fair.

On a musical note -- yay that the little-known UK balladeer Robyn Hitchcock gets to play himself and sing a couple of tunes during the wedding reception. He reminds me of the folk greats...Dylan...Neil Young (wonder what Mr Young thought of Unknown Legend being acapella-ed during the Rachel Getting Married wedding ceremony??)